My journey did not begin too long ago,

Ever since my cousin Bilbo gave me this ring,

With the fellowship I travel through forests, meadows, and snow.

The only protection I have is my sword Sting,

The ring sitting so dangerously safe in the palm on my hand,

We continue on and on across mountains and rivers,

Orcs grow nearer as our feet hurry across the dirt and sand.

I look towards Mount Doom its frightful face sending me shivers.

I must destroy the ring once and for all,

To stop the evil it holds inside,

Once I reach the volcano I find it difficult to let the ring fall.

Slowly the lava begins to rise it is far too late to hide,

By the side of my gardener we fear no tommorow,

Seeing the Great Eagles flying toward us we lose our sorrow.